


Figure it out

by dancinglittlelioness



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets, Milex-fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Criminals, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4437992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinglittlelioness/pseuds/dancinglittlelioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles, son of a far-famed and succesful businessman leads a planned-out life, destined to follow in his father's footsteps.<br/>Never did he want any of it, but one night - when he's out with his friends in a pub- changes everything. In a rather unpleasant way, mind you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello !  
> So the idea for this fic had been swimming around in my head for a long time before i finally decided to write it down. But here it is! English isn't my main language, so please do point out if i make any mistakes.  
> Hope you enjoy ~

Smoke surrounding his head -dulling his already weakened senses- a beer in his hand and a roaring laugh coming from deep in his throat. Once again, Miles is found out with his friends in a bar outside of town. His father would scold him if he knew, but Miles couldn’t possibly be bothered to care anymore. He’s downing one drink after the other and a light, pleasant haze is starting to fill his mind. The beer is far from proper quality, it tastes cheap and dull but he’s draining it with ease. The liquid helps his head turn away from the constant stress he’s put under: the weekly meetings, red carpets, forced talks with self-proclaimed important people, shaking hands, signing contracts and then we’re not even bringing up the media buzz yet.

 As the son of a famous and highly succesful businessman he’s hardly more than a tool, used for drawing the attention of the screens in order to bring his father more fame. And although he's succeeding in the task, he's convinced his dad despises him. He'd probably trade him for a more proper son within the consideration of a second. He blames Miles’ so-called incompetence for being a respectable successor on his lack of interest in anything business involved and on his inappropriate demeanor towards his dads many colleagues.

 Miles couldn't really blame him for that last bit. He never really did get the whole networking process. Whenever he’s invited to a business event or gala, he’s found making out with some bird in an inconspicuous corner of the place or worse, shagging one in a private chamber of the building in question. The latter only happened once, due to the two-week silent treatment Miles had gotten afterwards. Miles reasoned to himself that his father should be grateful he’s not openly hooking up with guys. That would do a lot more damage to his father’s reputation. Especially because his dad, contrary to his friends, doesn’t know about his preference for blokes yet. Miles has no intention of telling him either. It would only worsen the controversy between them.

That same controversy could also be found in the relationship between his parents. While his mother was a spontaneous and warm woman with a good heart, his father is as cold and humane as the stones on the bottom of a river. That's how Miles sees it at least. How they ever got together, is still a mystery to him. Them breaking up after five years of marriage was the only logical outcome in all this. Miles never saw his mother again, after the divorce. She disappeared and left him to live with his father who provided nothing but a place to live and the 'bright future and dream career' he never wanted. Just like that, without any explanation or at least a goodbye-kiss. Still being a young boy at the moment, it had affected Miles a lot.

Their live-in and nanny, Mary, was the closest thing to a mother Miles had left, so that’s the role Mary picked up. She has taken care of him ever since. Which means she was responsible for his education, since his father was never around to look after the boy. And during the rare moments he was, he hardly paid attention to his son. Luckily, Mary loved him like her own and she raised him to be just as loving and optimistic as his mother once was.

The memory of his real mother has almost faded completely. The only reminder that Miles has left, is a crumpled photo of her playing football with the younger version of him in their backyard -a genuine smile on both of their faces- that he has kept in his nightstand's drawer for over 15 years.

 However, where the absence of his parents had formed a hole in his life, his friends were there to fill it up. Miles has always been really social and never did he lack in friends, never did he feel lonely. He still spends most of his free time with them, because the almost lifeless mansion he lives in has the tendency of becoming boring after some time.

 And so tonight, he’s sipping on another drink while one of his best mates, George, is telling a rather funny story about the bird he shagged last week. “So yeah after Phil introduced me to her, she launched into small talk. But man, I was  **completely**  wasted already ! I even spilled me drink all over her skirt! However, I somehow did manage to take ‘er home and-“ Everybody, including Miles, is listening attentively. That is until the barista saunters over to their table to get the empty glass.

Nobody really pays attention to her, but when she lightly touches his shoulder, Miles does. He looks up –partly surprised and partly annoyed because now he might miss the punch line- and her purple lipstick lips curl up in a secretive smile, before the barista slides over a folded piece of paper. “From the stunner who just left” she whispers to him and winks.

Miles frowns in confusion and quickly throws a glance at the entrance behind his shoulder. The door just falls shut as he spots a guy with semi-long, blond curly hair and a black coat walking away. When he turns his head, the barista is back at her spot behind the counter and she’s already serving another customer. He looks at his friends but they’re still enchanted by George’s talent for narration and haven’t noticed a thing. Miles clenches his fist around the little paper and hides it under the table. After checking if nobody’s paying attention –it appears that George is doing a great job- he silently folds it open, curiosity running through his veins. In a neat handwriting he reads:

 _I’m terribly bored and you look quite fun._   _Meet me outside for a smoke? :)_

 The expression on his face changes to match the one of the little emoji at the end of the note. This is not how he'd assumed this evening would go. Miles finds himself really lucky for being hit on by a handsome, or so he seemed from a distance at least, guy. He contemplates what to do with it. Not many people in this area of town know him, so that shouldn’t make a problem. His friends wouldn’t mind, that he’s sure of. And the guy doesn’t seem to know about him being relatively famous, which certainly is an advantage.

 While deliberating he doesn’t hear the laughter around him quieting down. Before he can come to a decision he hears Jay joking “You pissed yer pants, Mi? What’s so interesting under that table?” He tries not to look startled and grins instead. “I- errm my dad texted me.” He says, pretending to shove his phone back into his pocket but actually hiding the paper. He doesn’t know why he’s lying but it seems like the easy thing to do at the moment. “He’s home and wants me to come and talk about some important contract.”

“You serious?” George asks, disbelief clear in his voice. “It’s like“, he glances at his watch,” eleven o’ clock already! Does that guy ever stop working?” “Apparently not.” Miles fakes a displeased smirk and scratches the back of his head. “I’m sorry but I gotta go guys. I’ll see you later then, yeah?” He puts on his leather jacket and throws some money on the table, more than enough to cover his share of the bill. “Alright mate, see ya.” His friends give their goodbye’s and Jay pats his shoulder as Miles walks to the door. “Send him my love, yeah?” Eugene calls after him. “You know he still hates you for throwing up on his Persian rug, right?” “Nah, i'm sure he loves me. I'm just likeable like that”, he slurs, ridiculously giggling afterwards. Miles snorts at that and waves as he stalks out.

 As the door closes behind him, the cosy chattering of the bar makes place for a silence that is typical for this time of day. He can still hear a faint laughter coming through the walls of the café. The cold evening air hits him hard and Miles zips his jacket closed, a shiver shooting through him. The light alcohol-induced fog in his head seems partly blown away by the chilly wind that’s rushing through the streets. The world around him is coloured amber by a soft light coming from the few lampposts that decorate the roadsides. Miles looks around, in search for the guy with the blond hair.

 The road is empty, so he quickly spots him a couple of feet up ahead, resting against one of the lampposts. Head down, and rings of smoke floating up from his lips. Miles smiles and begins walking towards him, feeling a little nervous in his stomach. Just as he does, the guy flicks away his cigarette, stands up straight and starts walking in the opposite direction. He didn’t even look at him. Miles stops walking and stays behind, puzzled.  _Did he not see me and thought I didn’t take his offer, perhaps ?_

 Miles is not sure if he should follow, it does seem somewhat suspicious. But, reckless as he sometimes tends to be –specially after drinking a little-he goes after the stranger anyway. As the guy rounds the corner of an alley, Miles shouts “Hey, wait up ! I’m up for that smoke, mate!” and starts jogging. When he reaches the alleyway, the guy is gone. Miles furrows his brow and turns to back away, actually getting worried now. A hand covers his mouth before he can, and he’s being pushed inside the narrow passage.

Miles panics and wrestles in the unknown grip, struggling roughly to break free. He tries to scream and kick his aggressor but as he notices that the cloth -that’s being pressed against his mouth and nose- smells strongly of chlorophorm, his body loses all strength and he slumps helplessly in the grasp of the stranger.

The man hooks his hands under Miles’ arms and drags his lifeless body to his car. The sound of Miles’ limb legs scraping softly over the pavement disturbs the peaceful silence of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those last sentences turned out a little obscure..  
> It just kind of happened (the rest of the story won't be that dark, i promise)  
> Reviews are much appreciated


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles is in a closet :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy

Miles wakes in darkness. Not only his head aches, but also his arms, legs and back. He groans. At first Miles thinks he’s hung-over, it wouldn’t be the first time, but when he tries to move, he finds his arms tied together behind his back with something… _rope_ ? Suddenly, last night’s events come rushing back to him. Pure dread takes over and the hairs in his neck rise up. He squirms and tries to move, but his feet are also bound and there’s not enough space to shift from the position he’s in. He wants to scream but something’s covering his mouth and from the way it sticks to his skin –pulling at the short hairs beneath his nose as he attempts to open his mouth- he assumes it’s duct tape. There’s a fabric covering his eyes and his heart starts beating faster as he desperately swings from side to side, only to realize that he’s surrounded by walls. Miles curls his fingers upwards and touches the wall his back is resting against. It’s made of wood – _a_ _closet perhaps ?_ Scared to no end, Miles only sees one option: making as much noise as possible in the hopes that someone hears him.

He throws his body against the side walls repeatedly, biting away the pain, and tries to scream ‘help’ which comes out as a muffled ‘hmmmppf’. After a solid five minutes he has to give up. He’s positive his arms are bruised by now and starts to sob lightly. Miles has no idea why he is where he is and who could’ve put him in this situation. What he does know is that he’s scared. The combination of shock and sobs makes his body tremble.

When his self pity has withered, Miles does his best to think rationally. Hysteria isn’t what he needs to escape. A plan is. Miles shuffles his right leg to check if his abductor left his phone in his pocket. _Of fucking course not._ He sighs hopelessly. Then he checks his hands again: he may not be able to move them separately but he can use his fingers. Miles starts scanning the wall behind his spine. He bends forward as his fingers roam over the flat and smooth surface. Nothing to be found. _Fuck._

Until - _wait!-_ there’s definitely something sticking out on the left. He carefully touches it with his thumb. It’s sharp and pointy, made of metal. _Yes!_ _A nail !_ He begins to rub his the rope -that keeps his hands tied- against it. He mentally thanks all the existing gods for this sparkle of hope and keeps scraping against the metal. After a while he feels one part of the rope loosening lightly and almost yells, if he could. Miles attempts to pull his hands apart, rope digging into his skin, and feels it –snap! _Yes, yes, hell yes !_ The cord falls off his wrists and his hands are free. He brings them forward and winces when he feels how sore his shoulders and wrists are. Miles tears the tape off of his mouth in one swift move and then removes the blindfold. Opening his eyes, he notices he’s indeed inside of a closet of some kind. A ray of light falls through the gap between the two closet doors, illuminating the inside of the closet slightly. He quickly unties his feet and then spies through the gap.

Facing the closet, there’s a mediocre, unmade-up double bed with a nightstand. A little more to the right, he spots a settee placed in front of an antique television. The floor around the settee is scattered with piles of books and empty beer bottles. On the left he can catch a glimpse of what appears to be a cheap kitchen table. Miles frowns. _Am I in somebody’s apartment ?_  He seems to be alone and decides to try and escape. Looking up, he notices the closet is closed from the outside with what he hopes to be a simple handle. The middle of the bar is visible to him so he slips his pinky under it and lifts it out of the lock. It falls to the right and he can see it dangling back and forth. The right door slowly opens. Luck must be on his side today.

Miles crawls out on his hands and knees. He jumps up immediately and examines the room with attentive eyes, making sure he’s indeed alone. For now, he seems to be. With a pained expression he massages his strained limbs. _No time to waste. I need to get out of here._ ”Door, door, door” he mutters, hands in his hair. Miles tries his luck as he sprints to the right, finding a small hallway there, one that leads to a door. Fingers crossed, he pushes the door handle down. It blocks. _Yeah, what did you expect, you nitwit._ He scolds himself.  He has nor the muscle nor the required lock picking skills so there’s no way he’ll get past that door.  
  
Miles runs back to the main room and stands in the middle for a second, considering options. Then the window behind the television catches his eye. Its view confirms that the place is part of a larger building but judging by the state of the courtyard, it’s as a good as abandoned. He inspects the window closer and knocks against it: it’s double glazed. “Fuck” he mumbles. “That won’t work..” He glances at his watch. Someone could walk in any time. The nervous tingling in his stomach grows stronger as he scampers on to the two rooms on the other side of the cramped apartment. Running past the dining table he recognises the wig lying on top of it. He stops and picks it up: semi-long, blond curls. An image of last night’s handsome stranger dances  before his eyes. “How the fuck could you ever be so damn stupid ?!” he hisses to himself as he flings it back.

He walks into the first room. It’s a tiny kitchen, equipped with only the absolute necessities. The checkered floor tiles are stained with god-knows-what, causing Miles’ nose to turn up. The narrow window the room has won’t bring Miles anywhere so he moves on to the last room.

Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks when he hears the sound of a key being turned in a lock. _Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit !_ He momentarily freezes, not knowing what to do as he’s stunned by a mortal fear. He once read that when you ever find yourself in a life-threatening situation, your instincts will either tell you to act, freeze or flee. His urge him to hide back inside the closet, so that’s what he does. Just as he’s in, he hears footsteps approaching. Miles’ heart is beating at such a quick pace that he’s paranoid that whoever just entered, will most certainly hear it. He silently draws his knees up to under his chin as he gazes through the gap.

A pair of legs clad in black dressing trousers adorned with classy Beatle boots nears him and makes Miles’ head race. They stop right in front of Miles. _What do I do ?_ _What the fuck do I do ?_ A million possible reactions seem to shoot through his head and when his abductor opens the closet Miles just jumps out on him. His hands automatically fly to the guy’s neck and his fingers wrap tightly around it. He lands on top of the man’s chest and starts trying fervently to choke him. The guy lying beneath him has dark brown hair -slicked back with tons of gel- and his brown eyes are wide as he stares at Miles in surprise. Miles has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, he’s just doing whatever could help him make an escape. He obviously hadn’t paid attention to anything else and neither does he see the black briefcase flying his way. The sturdy object hits the back of his head and he’s thrown aside.

Miles is quick to scramble to his feet though, and instantly, he runs to hide around the settee. He crouches behind it and in search for an item to defend himself with, his hand clutches around one of the beer bottles lying there. He jumps up and catapults it at his enemy, who was just coming his way. The bloke dodges it just in time and it shatters against the wall. “Jesus Christ ! Are you out of your mind ?!” the guy screams with a thick accent.“Stay away from me !” Miles yells back as he launches another bottle. This one too, misses its target. Miles grabs as many bottles as he can and starts throwing them all, one by one. The man in the black suit just crouches, protects his head and waits for the storm to end.

Suddenly, Miles is out of bottles. His fingers search the carpet underneath the settee but he can’t find any more. “Shit !” he curses, but then his gaze settles on the piles of books. He quickly scurries over to it and grabs the top one. “Hey, not my books !” the guy shouts desperately, but it’s too late: a fine piece of literature is already flying his way. Before Miles can grab the next one, the guy is once more coming for him, more hurriedly this time. He pushes Miles over by his shoulders and Miles goes down on the floor. “Get your hands off me, you cunt !” Miles growls. “Won’t you just- calm down for a second !” The brown-haired man sitting on top of him tries his best to catch Miles’s arms that are fiercely circling through the air –attempting to hit his attacker-  but Miles’ fist hits him in the jaw instead. The bloke falls back for a moment –hissing- but recovers fast.

“Okay, that’s it” he states bitterly and gets back up. Miles rises from the ground as well and grasps a hold of the empty vase that’s standing on the coffee table and retreats with it in a corner. He carefully awaits his opponent’s next move, panting rather heavily. The man bitterly distances himself, wanders over to his jacket -that he had thrown on the bed- and retrieves something from its pocket. A gun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is almost 2 years too late... but here it is anyway!  
> (don't ask why it took me 2 years to continue this, there's really no valid excuse)  
> (i'm a procrastinating piece of shit though, i can tell you that)
> 
> Hope you enjoyy

All colour leaves Miles’ cheeks as the stranger points the barrel at his head. “Now pipe down, will you?” He sees the man retrieve a pair of cuffs from his briefcase before walking over to Miles. “Get on your knees”, he grumbles, annoyance clear in those four words. Miles does as asked and keeps his gaze averted while doing so. Somehow he’s glad to sit down because he wouldn’t have trusted his knees to keep him standing for much longer, with that gun now pressed to his forehead. He feels a small shard of glass press into his leg –perhaps even drawing blood- but it’s not hard to ignore, given the circumstances.

The man plucks the vase from Miles’ slightly trembling fingers, sets it aside and orders: “Lift up your hands.” It’s the way he says it –the way he just knows he’ll be obeyed- that displays his natural authority. This man is used to getting his way. But then again, any man with a gun could extort some form of obedience. Miles hopes the stranger doesn’t see his hands shaking as the cuffs are slipped around his wrists. “What do you want from me?” he mumbles, eyes still fixed on the ground. “I want nothing of you, Miles.” He feels the pressure of cold metal against his temple and turns his head to the other side. “I just want you to clean up the mess you’ve just made, yeah?” Not knowing how else to react, Miles nods. The stranger removes the gun and walks over to the adjacent kitchen to retrieve a dustpan and a brush.

When he returns Miles is still where he left him, kneeled down on the tattered red carpet with his gaze averted. The man shoves the items in his hands. Miles looks up into a pair of expectant eyes. “You can stand up now”, the man says and it almost sounds like mockery. He rises and starts collecting the glass shards.

As he’s sweeping smithereens together, Miles hears the faint sound of a text notification. After that a complete silence –save for the jingling of the glass parts- settles. He doesn’t want to annoy the man further and so does nothing to stop the quiet. The other man seems preoccupied with his phone. When Miles is sure he isn’t being watched, he quickly slips a sharply pointed shard in his pocket before quickly returning to his task and collecting the pieces underneath the couch. He tries his best not to look suspicious about it, but suddenly he feels a hand on his shoulder.

His heart stops and he knows he’s done for now. He’s already reaching for the weapon in his pocket in a last attempt to save himself, but then the stranger says: “That’s good for now. You can pick that up again later.” Miles’ hand wavers but then he thinks better of it and decides to wait for a better opportunity. He silently lets out the breath he’d been holding. “Get up”, the man orders, “The boss wants to meet you so you’re gonna have to put this on.”

The stranger has put a linen bag over Miles’ head before he even has a chance to respond. His handcuffs are unlocked and quickly refastened again behind his back. “We don’t have much time. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Two hands gently but hurriedly push in his back as Miles is being led to the doorway. Most of the light is blocked out by the sack and he stumbles forward relying on the man for guidance. He feels like he’s losing the last shred of control he had left and that frantic panic starts to take over again. “Hey! Where are you taking me? What are you going to do to me?” he yells. The moment they reach the door Miles starts to fight the man’s restraint but the grip on his body tightens and he struggles to break lose. “Let me go! I’ve done nothing wrong!” “Miles, calm down please. I-“ “No! Let go of me, I don’t deserve this!” He attempts to kick the man behind him while bucking wildly to free himself. The stranger briefly distances himself and Miles is left standing blinded and disoriented in the middle of the corridor.

He breathes heavily, the cloth around his head becoming damp and uncomfortably hot. Images of hostages being starved or tortured flash through his mind, he imagines these things happening to him, he imagines becoming part of cruel scenes like the ones he knows from crime television, he sees guns, knives and blood. His head snaps up when he hears a sigh from behind him. “You got two options here, Miles. You either calm down and then I’ll safely guide you to my car or I’ll have to sedate you again and throw you in the back of the trunk. It’s all up to you.” Miles lowers his head, feeling helpless. He doesn’t know what it is that he did to wind up in this situation. He’s never felt so scared or confused before. His nerves are acting up but he pulls himself together and nods. “Okay, I'll stop. Just please don't drug me again.”

The car ride is quiet but unnerving. Miles is seated on one of the passenger seats in the back. Since his view is obscured he solely focuses on the sounds surrounding him. The soft humming of an engine, the clicking of indicators, a moving gear stick. Nothing remarkable. There’s a vaguely familiar melody on the radio, but the volume is too faint to pinpoint it. He has no idea where they are or where they’re going, but he tries counting the time to define how far they’ve travelled. Just a stupid thing he's seen in a movie sometime but it's reassuring nonetheless.

The sudden voice startles him. “We’re almost there.” He’s lost count. “Could you at least tell me what’s going to happen?” The man sighs. “I don’t know myself, Miles. I’m just the guy who drives you there.” “Is it money that you want then?” “As I told you before, I want nothing of you. I do whatever my boss tells me to do and I get paid for it. That’s it.” “Even if your task involves sedating and abducting people? You just blindly see to that?” The dark, humourless chuckle that follows takes him by surprise. “There are things worse than that, Miles, trust me. We’re here.”

Miles feels gravel crunch beneath his feet as the man leads him to their destination. The gentle hands push him through a door and when he hears it close behind him with a heavy thud, the bag is removed from his head. He takes a deep breath but immediately regrets it when a stale scent enters his nostrils. He finds himself in narrow corridor with a humid atmosphere. Fluorescent tubes emit a cold glow that serves to brighten the darkness. He thinks about the shard in his pocket. _How easy would it be to try a surprise attack right here and now. To take the car keys, drive away..._ _If only my hands weren’t tied up._ “Come on, right ahead.” the man ushers him forward.

“Alexander, my boy! Right on time”, a glamorous voice greets them when they walk into the main room. The man it belongs to comes standing right in front them. He has shock of grey-black hair, a dark and piercing gaze and he’s wearing what appears to be a dark purple, custom made suit. His distinctive chin makes his appearance bear a striking resemblance to that of a prowling vulture. The man seems to be in his late fifties and has that sort of intimidating charisma that radiates power. But since power doesn’t stop incoming bullets, there’s also two bodyguards guarding his flanks. The man must be of great importance considering that Miles spots another four lurking in the corners of the dimly lit room. They’re all armed to the teeth.

“I see you delivered. Is this the boy? Is this Miles?” the man asks eagerly. “He is, sir.” “Ah, lovely! I expected nothing less of you, Alex. Well done.” “Thank you, sir”, Alex answers and Miles’ blood boils at the hint of pride in his voice. “You see that, Paul?” The man in the tailored suit suddenly spins around. He strides over to another person who’s lounging in one of the luxurious settees with a drink. “Alex succeeds on the  _ first _ job. I gave you multiple chances to prove your worth and you fuck things up for not one, but  _ three _ consecutive times. What do you have to say to that?”

“Anyone could take on a job like that, sir”, the guy reasons with confidence, “If you’d have ordered me to snatch some kid I would have been just as successful. Managing gun trades is an entirely different case altogether. I just need some time to adjust.” “You’ve already cost me  _ two hundred thousand _ pounds, Paul. And then I’m not even counting the money I wasted on your salary yet.” “Just give me another chance, sir", he says it with a sigh, almost bored even "I promise you I'll get you your money back. That money and much, much more. You won't be disappointed, just watch." Paul swirls the ice cubes in his whiskey glass and lowers his gaze to take another sip. Miles feels the promise of an impending threat in the air.  _ How is he still acting so composed?  _

“Ah Paul, Paul, Paul…”, the man in the purple laughs, “You’re a cocky one aren’t you?” Paul grins amicably back at him. “Perhaps. I do get that often, sir.” “You know, Paul,” the man in the suit says, shaking his head with a chuckle before lowering his voice to a humourless pitch, “I don’t really like cocky.” Miles sees Paul’s cool façade shatter in an instant when the gun sways in his direction. The next moment there’s already a bullet buried right between his eyes.

Miles stumbles back in horror at the sound of the gunshot. He quickly looks to his right to gauge Alex’ reaction but he seems almost entirely unfazed by the situation. He observes the scene with that ever calm and collected expression of his. Fear builds up in the pit of Miles stomach as the man in the purple makes his way back to them. The sight of the crimson red hole in Paul’s head makes him feel nauseous and when he sees the numerous blood specks on the murderer’s shirt he almost gags.

“Well, now that that unprofessional vermin is out of the way let’s get back to you two, huh?” The man stretches out his hand and waits for Miles to shake it. Miles stares at it, bewildered. “Oh, of course, you’re still shackled”, the man laughs, “Sorry about that. The name’s Martin. You’re Kane’s boy, right? Miles?” Miles nods politely. “So do you know why you’re here, Miles?” He shakes his head, subtly shuffling backwards, creating a distance between them. “You can speak, boy, I won’t shoot.” Martin winks. “No, no I don’t.” “Ah, you must have some idea no?” “Something to do with me dad, probably”, Miles mumbles. “Spot on! You hear that, guys? This boy might be smarter than half of my personnel combined”, Martin laughs at the two men at his side. They don’t even flinch at the remark.

“Thing is, Miles, back in the day your father and I we used to get along very well. We were on the same wavelength, you know? Just two young men trying to fight their way up to the very top of business”, Martin explains with exuberant hand gestures, “Two very different kinds of business perhaps, but business nonetheless. Anyway, when we both got successful we had our hands full establishing our enterprises. We lost track of each other and our friendship diluted. For years we stayed off of each other’s radar until not long ago your father decided to stir the pot.” Miles frowns at that.  _ What did my dad do to piss someone like him off? And why was he even familiar with him in the first place? _

“Things were not going great between me and my wife Lucrezia, you see. Admittedly there even was a divorce on the horizon. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact cause of our downfall, but then one night at some gala event, just about a week ago, I find your father pawing at my wife in some corner of the party.”

That takes Miles by surprise. His father had always disapproved of Miles’ debauchery during parties, about the fact he’d made quite the reputation for himself. His dad always went on about being a respectable man and how Miles lacked the discipline and decency of a good businessman. Miles couldn’t imagine his dad having an affair with a married woman. Martin continues with a bitter tone: “That night Lucrezia confessed that this thing between them had been going on for a couple of months. I killed her out of pure exasperation, and I still regret that, Miles. It should’ve been him instead. He's the whole cause of this. He did this to my Lucrezia.” Miles shivers and tries to distance himself further.

Alex stops him with a hand on his shoulder and a subtle shake of his head that told Miles:  _ For your own good, don’t try anything.  _ “So now of course, I’d like to make him pay for his treachery.” “With all due respect,” Miles tries to argue cautiously, “but you can’t hold me responsible for my father’s mistakes.” “No, no, of course not, dear Miles”, Martin smirks, “It’s just that the best way to get to your  _ father _ is through  _ you _ , you understand?” The idea of receiving the same treatment as Paul -bleeding out with a bullet through his brain- makes Miles’ blood freeze.  _ This is going to end badly. I have to get out.  _ “Please, I have nothing to do with this. Please just let me go”, Miles pleads, “I won’t tell anyone about this, about Alex, about you…” “Tssk, tssk, tssk”, Martin shakes his head, “Sadly, that’s not how we do things around here, Miles. Your father made a grave mistake. He made me  _ kill _ my own wife. I want him to feel the pain I felt when she bled out in my arms, I want to hit him where it hurts the most. And you’re gonna help me with that.”

From there on things are a bit of a blur for Miles. He still remembers being strapped to a chair. There was a bright light pointed right at him, blinding him. A camera filmed as one of the bodyguards beat his face to a pulp. His chest also received a couple of swings and he’d doubled forward as the air was pressed out of his lungs. He distinctly remembers the stinging pain when the next, precise punch had made his lower lip split open like overripe fruit. He’d clutched the newspaper in his hands tightly as drops of blood coloured the front page a dark shade of red.

He remembers Martin examining the scene from a distance, a drink in his hand and a satisfied smile plastered on his smug face. He also remembers looking at the figure of Alex who was standing at the side line, masked by shadows. In those eyes, Miles had searched for help, but Alex had averted his gaze after the first punch had been delivered. He almost looked ashamed even. Miles remembers seeing him frown more with every pained grunt or groan that left his lips. Eventually, everything had started to dance before his eyes. His body had collapsed under the repeated blows and a merciful darkness had taken over.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a filler but I hope you enjoy anyway ~  
> Reviews are much appreciated :)

Miles wakes to the soothing scent of a cologne. His cheek is pressed against a soft fabric and he’s enveloped by warmth. With his consciousness also comes an oppressive pain. It feels like he’s collided headfirst with an incoming train. The aches of his bruised chest make him emit a quiet moan. He means to keep his eyes closed, let himself be lulled to sleep again by the lingering aroma of citrus and cedarwood.

That’s until he realises the situation he’s in. He feels like he’s floating but at the same time he’s sure that something keeps him at bay. Or rather, someone. Miles forces himself to open his eyes and he’s greeted by the sight of a black dress shirt and golden necklace. Casting his gaze upwards he sees a familiarly curved jawline and dark brown hair. It’s Alex. _I’m being carried by Alex._

His first reaction is to push him away with all the strength left in his bruised body. He dares to fall out of the embrace but Alex immediately reacts and corrects his grip. “Miles. Miles stop, it’s alright” , Alex tries to calm him, “I’m not gonna hurt you. Please relax before you hurt yourself even more.” “No-o…”, Miles croaks, “Put me d-down.” He channels the last of his energy into a futile attempt to remove Alex’s hand off his torso. Eventually he’s forced to cave and he lets himself be carried back inside Alex’s apartment.

Alex puts him down on the bed and hastily runs off to his kitchen. Miles winces as he shifts to rest against the headboard. He still thinks about escaping, but can barely even muster up the strength to keep his eyes open. There’s blood on his fingers when he touches a particularly stinging wound on his forehead. _God, they got me good…_

Next thing he knows, Alex is squatted down next to him, his hands full of medical supplies. Miles scoffs. “What now, you gonna patch me up?” Alex frowns. “Of course I am.” “How nice. First you drag me away to watch me get beaten and punched to a pulp and now you’re offering help?” He coughs and moans when his chest contracts with pain. “This is beyond me, Miles. There’s nothing I could do.” Alex mumbles as he eyes Miles with an expression that could almost be considered compassionate.

“Bullshit. You didn’t even try to stop them. You just stood there and watched. You didn’t do shit. You said nothing. Don’t even pretend you care now.” Miles huffs. The anger and indignation fuels him and he feels a bit of his strength return. Alex ignores his accusations and starts to clean Miles face with a cloth soaked in lukewarm water. Miles doesn’t stop at that. “I saw you, you know, looking all proud when Martin praised you. You’re just a pretentious, sadistic shit like him.”

Again, Alex doesn’t respond. He takes a bottle of disinfectant from the first aid kit and uses it on some of the open wounds. Miles winces and hisses as drops of the liquid clean the gash above his eyebrow. “And a hypocritical one, at that.” The other man hovers over him as he wipes the excessive drops of antiseptic away.

He seems unbothered by anything Miles fires his way and continues to carefully treat his wounds. “Shouldn’t you use salt water instead? Could have me squirming in pain beneath your hands. Bet you would enjoy that.” “Shut it, Miles. That’s not true.” Alex counters, irritated. He stands up and wipes his hands on his already blood stained dress shirt. Next, he calmly begins to unbutton Miles’ button down. 

Startled, Miles quickly swats his hands away. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” he asks a bit alarmed. Alex arches one eyebrow with a half-smirk. “Damage checking, Miles. What do you think I’m doing?” “I’m fine, I don’t need your help.” “You don't look fine. Can you just shut up for a moment, yeah? Then this would all go a lot faster.”

The slender hands return to his chest, delicately undoing one button at a time. When it’s finally open, Alex inspects the bruises scattered about there and lightly touches some of them. Miles feels uncomfortable with all the attention he’s receiving and he’s glad when Alex says he’ll be alright. He quickly redoes the buttons as Alex retreats back to the kitchen with his stuff.

Sounds of rumbling through kitchen cabinets fill the room and while Alex is distracted, Miles slips his hand inside his pocket to check if his shard is still there. It is. His fingers trail along the sharp edge, providing a bit of hope and comfort. He'll wait to make his move until he's regained some of his power. Then he'll strike. _First I need to rest._ He lets himself slip down further on the bed and beneath the covers. Fatigue quickly makes his eyes fall shut and he sinks away into a dreamless sleep.

A hand lightly shaking his shoulder wakes him from his slumber. When his tired eyes have adjusted to the light he recognizes Alex standing at the bedside. "Why'd you wake me?" Miles mumbles groggily. "Made you something." Alex answers and he places a plate with chicken and peas on the nightstand. Miles can't even recall the last proper meal he's had and so he eagerly digs in. It's quite good.

"You can join me at the table if you like." Miles huffs, trying his best not to roll his eyes. "So now i'm to keep you fucking company then? I'd rather stay right here, thank you very much." He shoves the next fork of chicken into his mouth a tad bit more aggressively. "As you wish." Alex says with that blank expression on his ever so stoic face. It's unnerving.

A tense silence settles between the two men, sitting only about three metres away from each other in the cramped room. Miles gets the nagging feeling he's being childish, but keeps quiet nonetheless, wanting to make some kind of statement. After some time Alex' voice clears the air:

"Here's the situation, Miles, I feel like you deserve to know", Alex says pushing the last of his peas around, as if contemplating just how much he's actually allowed to tell him. "Martin notified me your father just left on a business trip to visit several companies in Europe, Asia... all that", Alex vaguely waves his hand, "I'm sure you're more informed than I am. Anyway, he wants to await his return before making a move. Doesn't want to get too many people involved and that. And I'm supposed to keep you here for the time being."

Miles stares at him, hoping for it all to be a joke. But no further explanation follows and Alex just stares back, waiting for a sign of acknowledgement.

"You can't be fucking serious, right? This trip could take a month if not longer. I'm not staying here for _one day._ You can't keep me here!" Miles' hand clenches around the shard again, almost cutting his palm. "I can, though. I'm afraid Martin gave me an order, not an option." The calm way he states the facts and the slight shrug of his shoulders seem to convey a complete lack of empathy regarding any feeling Miles might have about the subject. Anger begins to flow all through Miles' body and it sharpens his senses. _Now's the time_.

As Alex collects their empty plates Miles prepares himself. His palms are getting sweatier with every passing second, his heart thumping madly. When Alex is standing close enough, he suddenly lunches forward forcing the glass against Alex' throat. "Open the front door for me", he growls. "You're really only making this worse for yourself, you know that?" Alex calmly points out, still balancing a plate on one hand. He doesn't even seem bothered. "Shut up. The door. Walk me to it."

They've only just reached the hallway when Alex makes a swift and unexpected move, removing the shard from his throat and delivering Miles a strong blow to his already bruised chest in the process. Miles' hazey mind can't keep up and before he knows it he's doubled forward again, the other man's arms the only thing holding him upright. The pain deriving from the new blow makes his eyes tear up and his view is double when he spots his shard lying between the shattered remains of Alex's dirty plate. _Fuck._

This time his left foot is chained to the bed with handcuffs. Alex makes sure the steel is tightly secured around his ankle and then slips the small key in his pocket. He sighs. "If it helps, I hate this as much as you do. You think I want to spend all of my free time with a hostage in my room? No, I don't, but it's not my choice to make." Alex picks up Miles' plate and returns it to the kitchen. He comes back with a broom in his hands and starts sweeping up the mess of the plate and broken beer bottles. "Which means that you and I will be stuck with each other for quite some time, whether we like it or not. So let's try and go easy on each other before things get messy, yeah?" 

Miles isn't sure what Alex means by _get_ messy -since he's already covered in cuts and bruises- so he doesn't answer. He's disheartened by the failure of his escape and the steel around his foot, but he's not ready to give up just yet. Fighting his way out won't work, that much is clear. But his mind is already going over other possibilities as he lets his eyes slip shut again.

He considers various ideas but there's only one that really sticks. Alex seems to want peace between them and that's just what Miles plans to give him. That and more. Charming people is one of his best qualities and he can't see why his charms wouldn't work on Alex as well. He'll win his trust, befriend him, kiss his ass if need be. And when the time is right, when Alex starts to let his guard down, he'll make his escape. 

He has a month to make this work. Plenty of time to set the other man to his hand, mold him and use Alex like they're using him. It has to work. It _will_ work.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one  
> Hope you enjoy :)

After dinner Alex hands him a beer, a sort of peace offering. He accepts it with a smile and a thanks. There's a shift in the atmosohere by the time the evening falls. They both end up watching telly and drinking on the couch, Alex having unchained him from the bed with a joking warning to rechain him the moment he starts throwing bottles again. Now that Alex has taken a shower and changed his formal clothes for a worn-out tshirt and checkered pyjama bottoms, he doesn't look the slightest bit menacing anymore. His normally slicked back hair forms a curly mess on top of his head and his eyes look tired and soft. Miles watches his transformation with a wary eye. He really doesn't look like the type of guy capable of hurting people. Let alone abducting a person.

He trains his eyes on the television again. The host of the currently broadcasted talkshow is going on about the latest gossip and scandals, his voice an annoying and shrill sound. He's invited several guests for the occasion, some of which Miles knows personally and despises with a passion.He checks his side to gauge Alex' reaction before expressing his thoughts. Alex doesn't seem to be particularly enjoying the show either, it looks like he's staring through the tv rather than at it.

"That host is such a prick", Miles comments hoping to spark a conversation. Alex' lips curl up in a smile "He is, isn't he? This the kind of thing you watch in the evening?" "Gods no, what makes you think that?" Alex shrugs. "You being famous and all, is this not the kind of program celebrities watch?" Miles snorts and shakes his head. "I don't need to watch this shit to dig up durt on people." He points at the screen.

"I can tell you that that broad guy on the left has been married for four years, but that he's been fucking his secretary behind his wife's back for about three years. Some even say they have threesomes together with the cleaning help." Alex chuckles and Miles points at another face. "Richard over there has seen his company going almost bankrupt two times. He had to bribe countless people to keep the case a secret and it's only with the considerable aid of daddy's fortune that he's still hanging around with the big guys. Lisa, the redhead sitting next to him, is a big icon in the world of charity. She donates massive amounts of money to different cases each year, while also exploiting the hundreds of people that work in the factories of her clothing line. And you see the pretty bird on the right?"

Alex nods and looks at him expectantly. "I shagged her twice at her dad's wedding anniversary party."  
Alex laughs and lifts an brow. "Sure you did." "You calling my bluff?" "You don't really expect me to believe that girl just threw herself at your feet, do you? She really doesn't seem the type." "Oh, but you haven't seen her drunk yet. And besides, I can be a right casanova when I want to be." He wiggles his eyebrows and draws another laugh from the other man. "Alright, I believe you. Can i change channels then?" "Yes, please do." "What a relief. I had almost made peace with the idea of having to watch this crap for the coming month." "You insult me", Miles jokes as he takes another swig of his bottle.

Alex keeps on switching channels until he encounters a Zorro rerun. "You like Zorro?" he asks. "Sure, Zorro's great. I don't think I've seen this episode yet, actually." In truth he hasn't even seen a single Zorro episode before, but he's not about to admit that. He wants Alex to be under the impression they share that interest. "You're in luck, it's a good one." They watch and drink as the evening passes into night. Miles struggles to keep his eyes open and Alex switches off the tv, suggesting it might be time for bed. They share Alex's bed, Miles shackled to the bedframe and Alex keeping an appropriate distance with his back to the other man, a weak attempt at creating a bit more privacy for the both of them. The idea he'll be sharing a bed with a man he hates for the coming four weeks is very strange to Miles. In another time, another place he might have indulged in the idea of being tied to a bed by a handsome stranger. _But this right here is far from enjoyable._

Falling asleep seemed easy while they were watching telly, but now Miles can't seem to turn off his mind. He lies wide awake staring at the ceiling illuminated by the moonlight that creeps through the cracks in the old blinds. The sheets smell of cheap detergent, the kind Mary would never even dare to buy. No matter how hard Miles tries to trick himself into thinking he's lying in his own bed, the breathing next to him keeps reminding he isn't.

He turns to face Alex's back and watches as the light bedsheets move in time with his deep and steady breathing. He's got the end of the sheets wrapped up in his arms, holding them to his chest. Miles can't help but wonder if it is because he might be missing someone to hold in his arms. He supposes being alone is part of the lifestyle of people like Alex. Working crime and starting a family don't appear particularly complementary. He wonders if Alex even has family at all. Who could ever even love a man like that? A man who blackmails people, abducts them, keeps them hostage? Kills people too, maybe? Would Alex be capable of that? Thoughts like these cloud his head for a couple of hours before Miles finally drifts off.

A loud bang pulls him abruptly out of his dreams. He scrambles to sit upright and he's surprised to notice his foot is no longer tied. But he's not where he remembers to be either. The room he finds himself in is confined, the damp air making it feel even more so. It's rather dark and Miles can barely distinguish a thing. He squints and tries to orientate himself, but it's to no avail. _Why did Alex move me here? And where is here?_

He turns and searches the darkness to eventually spot a vague figure lying in a distant corner. Approaching the silhouette he recognizes it to be Alex. He's lying on his side, facing the wall. His shirt has dark bloodstains on it. Miles hesitantly calls his name, fearing the worst when he still gets no answer as he shakes his shoulder. Miles then grabs his arm to turn him on his back, but immediately falls back with a scream as he sees the face of the man before him.

It's in fact not Alex, but Paul, and his face is entirely covered in blood, pouring out of the bullethole in his skull. His dead eyes are wide open, seemingly still reliving the moment Martin's 9 mm bullet came flying his way. Miles' stomach protests and he lifts his gaze off the body. He realises with a shock he must be back in Martin's basement and it stirs his nausea even more.

His eyes dart around in a flicker of panic and luckily his gaze lands on a vent in the wall. He instantly tries to pry it open, praying for it to grant him a way out. His hands are sticky with a mix of dirt and Paul's blood but the rusted hatch comes right off. Just in time, because suddenly a door swings open to reveal Martin and his lackeys who'd been alarmed by Miles' scream. The group immediately comes storming his way and Miles hurriedly climbs inside the vent that's just wide enough to fit. A hand grabs his ankle but he's able to yank himself free. Miles doesn't look back once, the threats that bounce off the sides of the tunnel speak for themselves. He starts crawling.

He has to rely solely on touch to navigate and so tries to remember every turn he takes. He loses his patience after an endless row of lefts and right. _It's a fucking labyrinth._ He's sweating madly, his shirt sticks to his back like his hair to his forehead. He keeps crawling. He hopes to find an exit somewhere. He doesn't. He takes another right. He tries taking multiple rights. He feels like he's going in circles. He takes a left instead. He regrets it and turns back to take the right. He feels like he can barely breathe anymore. He has no idea how much time has passed. Ten minutes? An hour?  Another right. There's a light. _A way out._ Miles quickly moves over to the opening and stumbles through. He makes a gentle landing and laughs aloud in utter relief. _I'm out. Finally._

But then he notices the source of the soft fall. It's pile of dead bodies. And Martin is standing right next to it. "There you are, Miles. You kept us waiting, boy." he says, baring his teeth in a malicious smile.

Miles almost screams his lungs out when he really wakes up. His arms are flailing and he franticly shakes himself free from the besheets. He's covered in sweat and his heart is pounding. He's back at the apartment. Alex is right beside him. He looks worried.  
"Woah-oh oh, Miles, relax", he says, "It was just a bad dream." "Fuck I was, there was- bodies and Martin he- the vent it didn't end it, you-" "Hey hey, it's over. You can relax, alright?" Miles shakes his head as to rid his mind of the images still floating before his eyes. Alex awkwardly rubs up and down his back to calm him and he seems slightly surprised when it does the trick. Miles lets out a deep breath. "Just a dream", he mumbles to himself. "I'll get you something warm, okay?", Alex suggests.

By the time he returns Miles has regained his composure and his wit. "Cocoa?" he mocks with a smile as Alex hands him one of the steaming mugs. "Don't laugh, I'm out of tea." "I wouldn't dare", he answers, taking a sip. His fingers tap on the ceramic for a moment and then he adds: "It's really lovely though, thanks." "Think nothing of it." Alex smiles back. There's a short silence.  
"You were stirring and talking in your sleep all night. I thought about waking you up at one point, but I wasn't sure whether you'd appreciate that." Alex averts his eyes and scratches his hair, then takes a long sip. Miles eyes him and briefly wonders where this sudden kindness is coming from. Is this the same guy who was waving a gun in his facs only half a day ago?1 "I wouldn't have minded, I think. And actually, if you're planning on serving me one those", he points to his cup, "each time you wake me up, then please do anytime. You make a boss brew." He winks and earns himself another chuckle. 

After Alex has finished his cup, he excuses himself and leaves to get changed. Miles feels slightly more relaxed now and he manages to catch another couple hours of sleep. When he wakes again, Alex is gone. There's a note on the nightstand together with a lunchbag and some books, probably from the elaborate collection that's lying around in piles. The scrap of paper reads:

I _'m off to work and probably won't be back until 7. Fixed you lunch and a couple of books. Hope you like reading?  
Sorry to leave unannounced but you seemed to have finally drifted off. Didn't want to bother. See you tonight. Alex._

Miles checks the room for a clock but there's none hanging around. He has no idea how long it will take for Alex to come home. He guesses he still has about an hour or 8. Might be less. He immediately tries to slide off the cuffs around his foot. He pulls at them until his skin is red and his muscles become sore. No use. He searches the drawers of the nightstand but finds nothing but a small notebook and a half full bottle of lube. The notebook only contains a couple of messily scribbled phonenumbers and adresses. He skims the pages and eventually finds his own adress together with the names of his favourite bars and that of his sportclub. _He really planned this out rather well. The fucking prick._ His jaw ticks and he has to resist the urge to rip out the page in anger. Instead he turns it and reads through the rest. Nothing really stands out to him. He wonders who the people behind the numbers are. People like him? Colleagues of Alex's? Or just another job to take care of? When he reaches the end of the book he spots a number written on the bottom of the backcover.

_0765342580 M._

It's the capital M that catches his attention. _M for what? Martin maybe_? Since it's written on the cover instead of on one of the normal pages it must be important right? Miles learns it by heart just in case.

After trying the lube on his cuffs and failing to get them off, Miles decides to actually do what Alex expects him to. He takes the first book and kills the time reading elaborately poetic sentences. He really didn't think Alex to be a poetry man. The criminal image just doens't go well with that of a hopeless romantic. Miles chuckles. These books are probably not even his. He wouldn't be surprised if they were stolen. 

By the time he hears a key turn in the lock Miles is so bored he's almost happy that Alex is home again. But not really. The smell of Chinese takeout enters the room together with Alex.  
"Hey", Alex greets as he strolls in and places a bag on the bed. "How you doing?", he asks and slips out of his jacket and shoes. "Well enough", Miles shrugs, "Could you undo these though? I'm sick of lying in bed all day and i really need the loo." Miles thinks he sees guilt flash over Alex' features for a moment before he answers.

"Oh uhh, sure. Of course. I kind of forgot about that, sorry. You can shower too if you like." "That'd be nice, yeah." Miles says rubbing the sore skin of his ankle when Alex removes the metal. "I'll just uhh..", Alex mumbles  as he turns to a closet and starts searching through the drawers. He comes up with a pair of plain black boxers and a clean shirt. "I don't have pants for you right now, they're all at the laundrette." _What makes you think I even want any of your things?_ Miles accepts the small pile and does his very best to produce a forced smile. "It's nothing, mine will do just fine for now."

It's only when he enters the bathroom and sees his reflection in the mirror that he really starts to crave that shower.  
There's blood and dirt caked to his face, his hair looks awfully greasy and his flowery dress shirt has blood stains all over it. He looks even more miserable than he feels and so quickly strips himself of his clothes to hop in the shower. The hot water instantly relaxes him. He cleans and massages his skin, stealing a bit of Alex's shampoo to wash the remaining dirt out of his hair.  
Changing into Alex's clothes is weird and the boxer briefs feel a bit too tight for his liking. Still they're cleaner than his own so he keeps them. The Triumph shirt on the other hand, hugs his frame nicely. The two of them appear to have the same size.

By the time he leaves the bathroom, Alex has already set the table. There's a box of Chinese duck waiting for him and Alex just walks in from the kitchen, a bottle of cheap wine in hand. Miles notices his eyes latch onto the shirt for a moment before he meets Miles' gaze. "You hungry?" "Starving." So.. do you insist on eating alone again or are you joining me this time?" If it wasn't for the playful smirk on Alex' face Miles would've called him out for his cockiness. "I'll join you if you share that wine", he bargains. "Alright, I can do that."

It doesn't take long for them to reach the bottom of the bottle, but then again it doesn't take long for Alex to go and fetch the next either. As the alcohol flows freely, so does the conversation. They talk about anything ranging from sports to music and silly anecdotes to future dream travels. Miles is surprised to notice his animosity towards Alex is starting to falter, but he chalks that up to the alcohol in his bloodstream and certainly not to the way Alex chuckles so boyishly at all of his stupid jokes.

When the third bottle is emptied it's nearing 11 and they're nothing but a ridiculous laughing mess. Reaching the bed proves to be quite a challenge, even when it's only a few steps away. Alex has a hard time redoing the cuffs and Miles doesn't think twice about making fun of his terrible clumsiness. Alex climbs over him to the other side of the bed and drops facedown onto his pillow. The dishes remain untouched until the morning as the two men sink into an alcohol induced sleep. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if anyone still remembers this fic but I finally got around to updating it (sorry)  
> Hope you enjoy

“God Alex, this place is a _mess_.”

Miles is rudely awakened by someone pulling open the blinds in a swift and harsh motion. He croaks and groggily squints his eyes to try and make out the figure stalking about the small apartment. He can’t quite make out the details yet but it’s a woman for sure. She’s swirling around picking up empty bottles and yesterday’s take out boxes, commenting on Alex’s chaotic nature to no one in particular. Walking around on her needle sharp stilettos and with a displeased expression plastered on her sharp features, she looks like quite the take-nothing-from-no-one-type.

Miles tries sitting up straighter but his body is hardly cooperating. Now it’s not only the bruises and cuts that ache but his head also feel like he’s been knocking it against the wall for hours. The woman turns her head and eyes him up and down. She seems a bit taken aback.  “Wow. You look like you sailed down the flights of a ten storey. And then i thought Alex didn’t look too well today… You know, is he drinking again? All those bottles,” her polished finger points at the rather extensive collection she just gathered together, ”they’re not from one evening i hope?”

Miles falters but her arched brow urges him to deny it. “Ehh no, no I think not.”  
“You _think_ not? That’s sounds real convincing”, she sighs and shakes her head. She disappears to the kitchen for a moment and comes back with a garbage bag.

“So umm.. where is Alex, actually?” The woman laughs in response, a high and shrill sound “Believe it or not, he’s off to work. Not sure if he’ll be of any use to anyone today but he’s not bailing either, of course. Don’t worry though, I’ll be around to get you breakfast, lunch and dinner, he made very sure of that.” “Ahh okay, that’s..eh that’s nice”, Miles nods. “Well that’s not the word I’d personally use, but someone has to do it.”

“So I assume you work for Martin as well then?” “Of course, practically the whole building does. But since I happen to live down the hall, Alex thought it best if I’d look after you for the day. So here I am.” She sighs again, Miles finds that to be a rather annoying trait of hers. He frowns. _The whole building? I might not be alone here after all. Who knows whole else is being held hostage around here.. or what other scum might inhabit the other rooms.._ “If you ask me though, I’m mainly here to look after Alex. That man just can’t go a week without making a dump of this place. He should pay me for all this, honestly. I almost feel like his housekeeper.” Another sigh and Miles ponders he’s at least a little lucky he didn’t get paired with that woman for the whole month.

The day drags on and the woman he’s come to know as Alexa pops in exactly three times to bring him his food, just like she promised. She eventually cleaned the whole house, even vacuumed the carpet, dusted the furniture and changed the bedsheets. By 9 o ‘clock Alex strolls in and he doesn’t even seem surprised by how tidy it is.

“Evening”, he says, shrugging off his jacket. “I take it Alexa took good care of you today?” “Yeah, she did. How was work?” Alex scrunches up his nose.”Well, let’s just say I got through it. Thanks to a strong brew of coffee and aspirins.” “You think maybe next time you could fix me one of those as well? Could’ve used it.” “Ahh I was planning on doing that this morning actually, I couldn’t find the time though. Was running late cause my alarm didn’t go off you see”, he says, coming over to sit on the him of the bed.

“Didn’t get too bored today?” Alex asks, eyeing him and actually seeming like he’s interested in the answer. “Nah, it was alright”, Miles lies,  “I had your books. And a pretty face swinging in every now and then.” “Ah yeah, she is a thing to behold now isn’t she?” Alex grins while leaning over to unchain the other man.

“You really think that is a good idea?”, it sounds from the other side off the room. Alex’ head shoots up to spot Alexa leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Miles hadn’t noticed her there before.  
“Alexa!” Alex immediately stands up and walks over to her. “Didn’t see you there. Hey, thanks a lot for helping me out today, eh. And for tidying this mess up”, he chuckles gesturing around. “Oh that’s alright, Al.” Her lips curl up into a thin smile.

She clears her throat. “You think maybe we could talk for a moment? Alone?” The look she casts in his general direction tells Miles he’ll probably be among the subjects of discussion.

The conversation is a pretty heated one, Miles can tell by the noise coming through the thin walls. Alexa’s sharp and loud voice pipes up above Alex’s low baritone, sounding like she’s giving him an earful. Nearing the end, the pair must have come to an agreement because suddenly things quiet down and the voices are much softer and calmer. A few minutes later Alex enters again, calm as ever.

“What was that all about?” Miles asks, his curiosity piqued. “Oh ‘s nothing, we just get on each other’s nerves every now and then, Alexa and me do.” “Ahh.. it wasn’t something I did, was it?” Miles is quite sure it’s not, but he’s asking for good measure.“No no, not at all. She just seems to think she knows better than me sometimes, knows best how I should handle my business and all”, he says. “It’s nothing that can’t be worked out, though. When it comes down to it, she’s a doll, really.” “Sure didn’t sound like one.” Miles grins. “Well.. let's just say she has her moments.”

\----

“Woahh-oh here she comes! Watch out boy, she’ll chew you uppp’”, both men sing along with ridiculously high voices as the song blares from the little radio on the counter. Miles is peeling carrots, his feet dancing from tile to tile as Alex is stewing the onions. When the chorus comes on, they mouth the words to each other with an enthusiasm that feels weird to Miles. Not off, but not fitting either. The Alex that's with him now seems nothing like the stoic one he met several days ago. But it's not an unwelcome change. He catches himself actually enjoying this -preparing a meal together with him- while he most certainly knows he shouldn’t be. But now he’s slicing up the vegetables to the beat and it feels right. He’s proper snickering when Alex suddenly bends his knees in a drop, the stirring spoon raised above his head triumphantly. It’s nothing but ridiculous but in the moment, he feels free. The feeling quickly disappears when he’s chained back in place by the evening. Still, the moment lingers in his mind.

The weekend rolls in and since that means Alex is around all day, Miles loses the chain. He can move around the house almost freely, but he feels Alex’s watchful eye on him at all times. Strangely, it doesn’t really bother him. He entertained the thought of making a run for it once or twice, especially during the moments when Alex seemed especially engulfed in his literature, but if he did and it failed, he’d lose Alex’s trust. He just can’t risk that. Miles told himself to be patient. He had a whole month after all.

So he chose to join Alex in reading and the pair spent numerous hours hanging on the couch together, occasionally making a remark about some interesting passage or making light conversation. They decided to make a habit out of cooking together and Miles would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. It was something to do, something to get his mind off things. And sure, it was quite fun too.

After dinner there’s beers and playing cards. They try poker for a spell, but the alcohol ruins Miles’ poker face and after 4 rounds he’s already losing so badly Alex takes pity on him and suggests they’d do something else instead. Apparently they both play a bit of guitar so that’s what they kill the rest of the time with. They pass Alex’s acoustic back and forth, trying to recognize each other’s riffs and composing new ones as well. Alex’s fingerwork is truly admirable and Miles finds himself charmed by it, almost mesmerized at times. But then again, his mind is cloudy and his eyes would hazily fix on anything. Still it’s enchanting watching those lean fingers manipulate the strings with such ease.

When Alex notices his stare he smirks, his eyes gleaming. And it’s definitely the beer working, when they lock gazes and Miles notices how dark the other man’s irises are and how there’s a light twinkle in them that graciously matches the slight smile that accompanies it. He shakes his head. _What am I thinking?_ “

Hand me that guitar, I’ll show you how it’s really done.” Alex huffs. “Oh yeah, because I totally didn’t just dazzle you with my skill.” He laughs but Miles keeps up the act. “Please, I was mildly impressed at most.” “Sure you were.”

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur, but it’s not nearly as disorienting as the situation Miles finds himself in in the morning. He wakes, pleasantly warm and not feeling half as bad as he’d anticipated. Keeping his eyes closed for another moment, he revels in the cosy warmth. But when he yawns, he notices something is off.

Light strands of hair tickle his face and he’s met with an all too familiar scent. When he opens his eyes he sees exactly what he expected. A sea of dark brown locks, his own nose buried right between them. Alex is lying alarmingly close, resting snugly against his chest, sleeping still. He shifts his foot and yes, their legs seem to be somewhat entangled as well. A tingle stirs his lower belly and Miles isn’t sure what confuses him more: why he’s not repulsed by their current positions or how they ended up like this in the first place. He freezes as a thought forms in his head. _We didn’t.. did we?_ His mind is quickly soothed when he checks and finds his underwear still in place. _Still..how the hell did this happen?_

He doesn’t get the chance to ponder on it for long because suddenly there’s a loud banging at the door. He feels Alex’s shoulders tense up as he rouses with a start. He looks back at Miles, bewildered. His lips move as if he’s about to say something, but then he sprints out of bed and to the door, tugging on pants and a stray shirt along the way. More knocking at the door.

“Coming! Just a moment!” He struggles with the right leg of his jeans for a moment and almost stumbles before reaching the doorway. Alex pulls it open to reveal the contrast of a sharply dressed Martin standing on the other side. The other man bares his teeth in a million dollar smile before politely asking: “Can I come in?”

\----

Another man follows suit, perfectly tailored four piece and a glock strapped against his hip. Alex lights up the moment he enters. “Jamie, been a while.” “Too long, Al. Way too long.” A genuine smile spreads over his features as he embraces Alex shortly.

“How was Romania? You’ve been there for what, four months?” Alex asks. “Yeah, about four and a half I think. It was alright, things went smoothly.. save for the final deal.” “How’s that? Something go wrong?” “Just some misunderstanding that got out of hand. You know that lot, they fire up easily. I’d rather handled it without bloodshed, but yeah.. Things worked out in the end at least.“ Alex nods and decides to quickly change subjects.

“God, Katie must be so glad to have you back. How’s Forrest doing?” “Oh, he’s great”, Jamie’s smile widens, “Growing like cabbage. You should come by to see him sometime, yeah?” “That’d be lovely, yeah. Are you-”  
“Boys, boys," Martin intervenes, "sorry to interrupt this little get-together but we’re here to talk _business_ , yes? Besides, we don’t want to bother Alex too much on his day off now, do we James?” Jamie's smile dissipates like snow before the sun. “Of course not, sir”, he answers dryly.

"Good, now Alex what I'm here for... There's a little something I'd like you to do for me. Since Paul sadly passed away, I'm a man short for my schedule. Normally I'd picky any replacement, but we're talking big business here so i want to make sure i put a competent man on the job. And I know you're already working on several deals next week, but I'm sure you can squeeze this in somewhere, right?" "Ehh yes, sure." Alex scratches his head, a bit overwhelmed it being so early in the morning

"I think I’m free tomorrow evening. Are we talking about the same case Paul was working on? That gun trade?" "Yes, indeed. Until he screwed up, of course. But I know you won't. And you'll have Jamie with you as your plus one if things should go awry." Alex frowns at that. "Jamie? But he just got back? Are you sure-"

"Yes Alex, I'm well aware of that. I was the one who send him off. " Martin interrupts. "After four months of work he won't mind doing one extra day, right James?" "Right." "Jamie's eyes look tired and disheartened as he answers obediently. Martin clasps his hands together. "Great, that's settled then! I'll send you two the details later today." He turns to leave but then spins back around. "Oh, I almost forgot. How's Kane's boy doing, huh? You taking good care of him?" He grins as he strolls by Alex in the direction of the living room.

"Ahhh, there he is! Hello Miles, long time no see, boy. But what's this, you let him into your _bed_ , Alex?" Martin turns to Alex with a mock face of disgust.

"I only have the one matress, sir. Didn't know where else to put him." "Ahh Alex, I thought you smarter than that! You shouldn't shit where you sleep, you know?" He shakes his head and chuckles as he moves over to where Miles is resting upright, against the headboard.

Miles grows more wary with every step in his direction and he shifts uncomfortably. His eyes, searching Alex's betray, his fear. Alex looks worried as well, his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out. Miles has an inkling this wouldn’t bode well for him. He’s immediately proven right when suddenly, with a swift move, Martin grabs his arm and yanks him to the side until he topples over the edge of the bed.

“Sir, please! I’ll find him some other place, I’ll just-” Alex tries but it’s to no avail. Miles yells as he falls to the floor and his ankle is strained into a weird angle, still being shackled. He immediately tries to get back up, but Martin just laughs and kicks, hard. His pointy shoe, decorated with a steel skull on the tip, painfully strikes Miles in the ribs where his old bruises are still most present. Miles immediately curls up in pain, letting out a cry. Martin scoffs and stares at the man lying in a ball at his feet. Miles thinks it best to just stay put, not wanting to anger Martin even more and now wanting his pain to worsen either. So he lies still, not moving an inch.

Martin of course, interprets it as a sign of weakness. "Pathetic”, he laughs, “Your father should be ashamed of you. I know I would be, if you were my kid.” Miles hears his steps distancing and he shivers in relief. “But then again, I guess I didn’t expect much from him anyway." Martins attention turns back to Alex and he smiles.

"However, I don't want to overstay my welcome here. Enjoy your day off, my boy." He slaps Alex on the shoulder, then whispers: "But remember who you're sharing your room with, eh? I don't invite my dog into the bed either." Martin laughs aloud, gives him another pat on the back and then leaves the room, ordering Jamie to come with.

From the moment the door slams shut, Alex rushes over and hoists him back up with care. “God, I’m so sorry Miles.”

He helps him lie back down on the bed and removes the ring around his foot, inspecting his strained ankle. “Oh great, now you’re sorry. Bit late for that, isn’t it? Bit late, _again_.” Miles answers bitterly, refusing to even look at the other man. Even though he seems sincere, Miles is not having any of it. “Get lost, Alex. I don’t care for you feigning sympathy.” He rolls over and turns his back to him.

"I’m not feigning anything... and I do care, despite what you might think. If it were up to me, you’d never have been here in the first place.” “Yeah, well it was still you who put me here, wasn’t it?” he mumbles. He realizes he’d do better accepting Alex’s consolation if he wanted to keep up the charade, but there’s not a hair on his head that’s even considering that now. He’s not entirely sure why he even feels so offended, but tells himself it’s definitely not because he’d expected more of Alex.

Alex sighs. "You have every right to be angry with me, I get it Miles. Just.. just let me check up on that bruise of yours and then I'll leave you be, okay?" "Don't even bother. I'll live." he snaps. And probably harshly enough -at least to kill the conversation- because Alex stays silent after that. He hears him shift awkwardly.

Miles waits but it seems that Alex isn’t planning on arguing further. Instead he hears him ask softly: “Could you move a little?” Miles gazes over his shoulder, frowning, but then scooting over a bit to the other side. Alex lies down next to him, close enough so Miles can sense his presence, but not quite touching. “Thanks”, he says and then lets the quiet settle between them.


End file.
